


Fifty Years of Hope

by Vaecordia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: End of the Cold War, Fluff, M/M, gets fluffier towards the end, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaecordia/pseuds/Vaecordia
Summary: Today, he leaves his room as the superpower. Not a. The only one.And it did come at a cost.





	Fifty Years of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> For danielacolddreams, an amazing person! First time writing almost pure fluff, hope you enjoy!

Alfred tightens the knot on his tie, checking himself in the mirror one last time. He picks up his jacket from the chair on his side, and judges his appearance as a whole. In all, he seems just about as ready as he can be. Today, he leaves his room as  _ the superpower.  _ Not  _ a _ .  _ The only one _ .

And it did come at a cost.

His clock reads 7:47, meaning he has exactly thirteen minutes to get to the meeting. He leaves the room at the American embassy, fumbling with his key as he closes the door. His hands are unsteady, and he tries to will them still. He’s picked up by an official diplomatic car, and arrives at the doors of the meeting room with two minutes to spare. He takes a breath, and enters the room. Most nations are already gathered there, including - including so many nations he hasn’t seen in years. 

Prussia, Hungary, the Baltic States, Ukraine, Belarus,... They’re all there, and Alfred can’t even properly remember if they all looked like this before. The only nation who’s really missing is Russia. Alfred wouldn’t honestly be surprised if he didn’t come to the meeting. But just as the clock shows exactly 8 a.m. and Alfred sits down at his space, the doors of the room open again, and in marches Russia.

Tall, proud,  _ undefeated _ Russia.

His eyes are just as cold as ever as they face ahead, unseeing almost and ignoring -  _ not deigning to take notice of - _ the other nations present. He quickly crosses to his chair, his movements fluid, with mechanical precision. Alfred’s eyes are fixated on the Russian, but the other nation simply stares ahead at the presenter's podium. Alfred tears his eyes away from the other man when the first nation presents.

An unnatural silence settles in the meeting room, a silence that hasn’t been there in fifty years -  _ always the same fighting, arguing, hissed remarks, scoffs and laughs, but not any more - _ and one which every nation notices. A short lunch break, during which Alfred wishes nothing more than to leave the building to avoid the other nations. The nations, who are either congratulating him, or glancing at him in fear, worry, awe -  _ he’s the superpower, he runs the world, now, doesn’t he?  _ And then they return from lunch back into the meeting room, and Russia is already there, apparently not having moved from his seat. Alfred ignores the fact and the meeting resumes as quickly as possible.

When Germany catches Alfred’s eyes much later, his eyes flick towards the clock on the wall, and Alfred notices it’s 5 p.m. already. Alfred nods, and Germany calls an end to the meeting. Alfred packs away his things, but slowly and deliberately glancing at Russia every five seconds. When most nations are gone, Russia looks directly at Alfred. Alfred stops everything he’s doing, and leaves his suitcase on the table. Whatever nations are left hurry out of the room, but Matthew leaves only after a stern “ _ go, this is for me to deal with _ ” from Alfred. Matthew closes the door behind him, and Alfred is the first to speak.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, his voice tentative. They haven’t argued, said a single word to each other today, and a small bit of his mind hopes  _ hopes so much  _ for a possibility that he shuts away immediately.

_ Fifty years. _

In fifty years, whatever hope Alfred had held after the Second World War was long gone, stamped into the ashes and dust of all the nuclear tests and proxy-wars.

“In a way, I am glad this is happening to me,” Russia states, his voice flat. Alfred begins to wonder what exactly he means by that, and so Russia provides him with a response. “I wouldn’t wish the chaos of changing your economic system upon you.”

The answer stabs at Alfred’s heart, the knowledge that Russia is - it’s painful. 

“I’m sorry,” Alfred whispers, and he hopes Russia caught it. He’s not sure he can say it again.

Russia chuckles, and there’s perhaps an ounce of genuine smile on his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Alfred,” he says, and Alfred’s heart stops. 

_ Alfred. _

_ Do not hope. _

“I was just as much part of this as you were,” Russ- Ivan admits. He’s conceding, and Alfred can’t believe it. “And you were merely better at it than I was.”

Alfred stands stock still, even when Ivan begins walking toward him. 

“And so, here I am, the Russian Federation, ready to start anew.” There’s a smile now, and Alfred is sure of it. Ivan can’t be for real, he can’t mean -  _ fifty years of pretending, seventy years ago it ended, there’s no hope left. _

“I - I suppose we can, uh, we can try for less strained, uh… ties, between the United States and the Russ-”

“Alfred.” Alfred’s breath halts, and then he’s staring straight at those swirling eyes -  _ warm, not cold, hopeful, reassuring, not dismissive or derisive.  _ “ _ We _ can start anew.”

“We-?” The question rises in Alfred’s throat, and he’s struggling to keep a professional tone. “But you - but you hate - you hate me,” he states, almost preparing to take a step back -  _ what if it’s a lie, a game, another game? _

“No, you misunderstand,” Ivan laughs, and perhaps Alfred has misunderstood everything and he really does want to keep it professional - “I can’t ever hate you, as much as I had to pretend.” Alfred’s brain slams into a mental wall, his thoughts screeching to a stop.  _ He pretended. Just like you. Pretending.  _ Ivan smiles wider, more hopeful, and it’s familiar and soft. “I love you, Alfred. And I no longer have to pretend I don’t.”

Alfred’s mind moves into action again, but very ineffectively. “You - you - you what now? You pret- pretended? All of it? Why didn’t you  _ why didn’t you-? _ ”

“Alfred, you’re rambling,” Ivan says, and when Alfred’s mind is still reeling, Ivan places a hand on his cheek. He visibly sees how Alfred wants to relax into the touch, and understands why it’s difficult. “I’m sorry, for everything. For not trying to make things work, for shutting you out, for putting you through all of that.”

Alfred sighs, the hand on his cheek still present and still comforting. “You’re really-?” He doesn’t know how to finish.

“I really do want to go back to the way things were, if it’s possible.” Ivan takes Alfred’s hand into both his own, and takes a step closer to Alfred. “I really do love you.”

It’s the first time Ivan’s said that to Alfred, and so many emotions wash over him at once that he finds his eyes watering and he has to look away, his embarrassment too big. He mumbles something Ivan doesn’t catch, and so Ivan has him repeat it. This time, Alfred looks up and into Ivan’s eyes, and they’re sparkling like the stars he so loves to watch in the night-sky. “I love you too,” he states, and he can’t help the smile that comes to his face. His cheeks feel hot, and heat up even more when he drags Ivan down into a kiss - he’s missed this so much,  _ so much  _ it feels like an eternity since he’s held Ivan, been held by Ivan-

Alfred breaks the kiss and tries to hide his smile behind a serious frown, with mediocre success. “And promise me -  _ promise me! - _ you won’t ever do something like this again! I’m warning you!  _ Ever! _ ” 

At that, Ivan laughs and shakes his head, and Alfred’s frown is gone. “I promise. I swear on my life, on my people’s, that as far as it is in my power, I will do everything possible to stop it from happening.”

Alfred’s smile wavers slightly at having remembered that they’re nations, and that events sometimes unfold in a way none of them want to, but it’s the best he can get, and he will accept it with open arms. 

_ Fifty years of waiting, hoping, desperation, watching, dreaming, hating, loving, pretending, and now Ivan is here, with him, for him, and he can’t remember a time when he was happier than this.  _

Alfred tries not to giggle when Ivan kisses him again, and before long it’s growing more heated and Ivan suggests they find a hotel room somewhere together. Alfred agrees with enthusiasm.

* * *

The next day, Ivan arrives to the meeting first, and all the nations turn to the arrival. He’s much less stoic than on the previous day, and he even says  _ Hello _ to a few nations on his way to his chair. A mere minute later, Alfred barges into the room like the man who’d won the entire planet in the lottery, with a smile that any of them have rarely seen outside the cheesiest romance films. He chirps happily at all the nations he sees, energetic  _ Hey, how are you _ ’s thrown every which way. When he sits down, France asks him if there’s something any of them should be aware of before the meeting, he doesn’t miss the way Alfred’s eyes flit over to Ivan’s side of the table, and Alfred’s  _ Nope, nothing to worry about!  _ tells him everything he needs to know. When Arthur tries to pry the information from him, he’s left to grumble disappointedly at the tight-lipped, grinning frog. Most nations soon notice, however, the lack of wariness from Alfred and the lack of a glare from Ivan.

And as Alfred grins broadly when Ivan meets his eye, they think it perhaps is really the beginning of a new era.

Alfred doesn’t catch anything in the meeting that day, and is only thinking about the awesome dinner he’s booked them for the evening. 

He really had missed this, but fifty years was a long enough wait. It made everything that much sweeter.


End file.
